


Prompts to Oneshots

by ThisIsWhenTheWorldEnds



Series: Original Works [1]
Category: Original Work, Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: (Did I already put that?), 1960s, Afterlife, Alive Grisha Yeager, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Animal Traits, Anxiety, Arguing, Asylums, Attics, Based on an Owl City Song, Being Lost, Best Friends, Black Character(s), Blood, Blue Eyes, Books, Bookstores, Cabins, Candles, Canon Universe, Card Games, Cell Phones, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Character's Name Spelled as Jaeger, Child Abuse, Child Death, Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, China, Chinese Character, Chinese Food, Christmas Presents, Clubbing, Coffee, Colors, Comfort, Cookies, Cooking, Death, Diary/Journal, Disappointment, Disney References, Doctor Grisha Yeager, Dr. Pepper - Freeform, Drawing, Dreams and Nightmares, English, Escape, Eyes, Fairies, Fairy Tale Elements, Fairy Tale Parody, Family, Family Dinners, Fights, Fireflies, Forests, Friendship, Games, Guilt, Hair, Hair Dyeing, Hange Zoë & Levi Are Best Friends, Harry Potter References, Haunting, Help, Horror, I Don't Even Know, I Tried, Ink, Letters, Librarians, Libraries, Magic, Major Original Character(s), Makeup, Mature Eren Yeager, Menstruation, Minor Original Character(s), Modern Royalty, Multi, Murder, Murder Mystery, Murderers, Music, Nicknames, Nightmare Fuel, Nostalgia, Notebook to Computer, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Original Mythology, Original Universe, POV First Person, POV Original Character, Pain, Paranormal, Pepsi, Percy Jackson References, Phone Calls & Telephones, Piano, Potions, Prompt Fic, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Pumpkins, Racism, Racist Language, Rain, Recipes, Rings, Romeo and Juliet References, Russia, Sad and Happy, Scents & Smells, School, Serial Killers, Shadow people, Short One Shot, Siblings, Song Lyrics, Sprite, Studying, Surprises, Survivor Guilt, TV News, Tags Are Fun, Tags Are Hard, Tags May Change, Teenagers, Thought Projection, Traditions, Tree Houses, Truth or Dare, Twitter, Walks In The Woods, Why Did I Write This?, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000, Work, root beer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2020-12-28 01:39:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 35
Words: 15,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21128663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisIsWhenTheWorldEnds/pseuds/ThisIsWhenTheWorldEnds
Summary: A bunch of one shots I wrote from prompts.Tags may change.Adding more chapters later.





	1. Fairy Tale Treehouse

**Author's Note:**

> I was bored 10/1/2019 in class and wrote this in my notebook. Soon, I wrote more and then typed them on my computer. Hope you enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Written 10/1/2019 and Typed 10/12/2019.

When I was little, I dreamed of enchanted forests and fairies with the smell of sweet berries surrounding them. Since I couldn't go into the world I wanted, I made reality into that world. I demanded my dad to build me a treehouse and I drew my own fairies to tape to the wood walls. I couldn't create the sweet berry smell, so I just bought a huge scented candle. I strung fairy lights across the treehouse, and even hung colored fairy lights. 

When I first started, the treehouse was bare. By the time I was fourteen, there were bean bags, books, posters, and stuff I and my friends either made or left. By then the treehouse was a little wore down, but it was still up and running. I also started to paint the enchanted forest that I planned to put in the treehouse. 

But then I started to grow some more. The treehouse continued to survive, but not without taking some hits. I left home and my fairy tale treehouse for college and rarely visited. Now, I'm twenty-six and looking at my fairy tale treehouse. My treehouse is ready to fall. but it still has that magic air around it. Even if they're going to tear it down, the memories are still there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? Opinions?


	2. Help Him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Written 10/12/2019.

"I swear to God, if these assholes don't shut up.." I grumbled, sitting up from my bed and grabbing my ringing phone from my nightstand. This was the fifth time I was woken up from a random number. I answer it before looking at the caller I.D., not interested in reading the number. "Hello?" I mumbled, waiting. "Taran! Taran, is that you?!" Someone screamed from the phone. I immediately notice the voice is my childhood friend, Jarvis. He sounded terrified, and it didn't sound like the "scared from a horror movie" terrified.

"Yeah? Jarvis, what's wrong?" I asked, hearing him shuffled from the other side. "Taran, I'm in trouble man! Do you know C.B.?!" Jarvis frantically asked, it now sounded like he was running. "C.B.? The serial killer?" I got up from my bed, pacing around. Why the hell would Jarvis be interested in a serial killer? "Yes, the serial killer! I think he's in my house!" Jarvis was whispering, and as he answered I heard a door slam and Jarvis basically whimper. "In your house? Why?!" I yelled. What could Jarvis do that was permit a serial killer after him?! "How should I know, Taran! Just help me!" Jarvis whisper-yelled, trying to control his breath. "Call the police!" I answered, thinking Jarvis was this stupid. "I tried! The only contact I could call was you!" Jarvis informed me. Just great, how was I supposed to help Jarvis?!

"Hold on, I'll call them!" I said, pulling the phone from my ear. "What!? No, no! Tar -" I cut Jarvis off by hanging up on him. I called the police, giving them Jarvis' address. The guy said police officers would be there soon. As I got off the call with 911, I couldn't go back to sleep. How could I? I really regretted hanging up on Jarvis now. I had to cell phone, one was cracked but still worked. Why didn't I use that one to call the police? But, then again, that phone is old and sometimes hangs up on people. Did I do the right thing? I didn't find out, as I passed out on the couch.

The next morning I was still full of anxiety. I kept the news on all day and tried to do things that would occupy my mind. Like the laundry I still need to get done, and washing the dishes. It still didn't help. I wanted to know whether my friend was alright or...dead. I called his number, but didn't get an answer. I hope that didn't mean what I thought it meant. But then it happened.

"At 3:45 AM, Tuesday, police got a frantic call from Taran Ritter. He expressed concern that his friend was in danger from a serial killer, C.B.. Police, questioning whether this call was real or not from other fake calls, quickly got to the scene. When the searched the house, the found Jarvis Peckgray, twenty-three, dead and stuffed in a closet. It appeared he was hiding from C.B. and tried to call many contacts. The only one he succeeded to call was Mr. Ritter. C.B. was not found at the scene and police are looking into the case. They have not interviewed Taran Ritter."

Oh my God. Jarvis was dead. My childhood friend was dead. It's hard to imagine that his last words to me was my name. Did I do a good thing, or did I just make it worse? Maybe if I was quicker with calling the police he would still be alive. How would I face his family, knowing i was the last person he possibly talked to? How could I face MY family?! My childhood friend is dead and I was the only one who could've helped him.

**\------------------------------------**

**Character gets a call from a friend they haven't heard from in years. Friend says they're about to be the next victim of a serial killer - Character is the only one that can help.**


	3. English Grammar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Written 10/12/2019

This situation couldn't be any more embarrassing then it already was. Here I was, a sixteen year old, sitting in the child section of the library learning basic English grammar with a bunch of five year olds. The library was running short of kids, and without at least twelve kids the library's Grammar Fun Program (GFP) couldn't continue. Oh, what a shame.

My mom forced me to attend, hoping to get a small raise or longer breaks since it was her kid that attended and "saved" the program. I doubt she's going to get any of those things, but I didn't argue. I wanted to have my phone for the rest of the year.

"Okay, kids! Where does the comma go?" My mother cheerfully asked, holding a piece of paper with an incorrect sentence. The kids quickly answered over each other, wanting praise. I rolled my eyes. I get that they were five or four, but I bet they get plenty of attention and praise from their rich asshole parents that dumped them here to get a break -- probably to go drinking. I said nothing, just continued to sit "criss-cross, applesauce" with my knee supporting my elbow while my elbow supported my head. I still had another hour of the baby grammar bullshit before I could leave. And get my $30.25 that mom bribed me with.

I felt a tugging on my shirt. I looked down to see Juana, a quiet, hazel eyed, five year old. I actually like Juana, as she was quiet and wasn't as utterly ugly as the other kids. "Yeah, Juana?" I asked, sitting up. Juana just blinks at me for a minuet before looking around. Finally, she points to the tiny drawing table. She must have seen Mrs. Conner restock it of crayons and paper, along with other things. "Do you want to go draw?" I asked. She nodded and started to walk over to the green plastic table and chairs.

Suddenly, she stopped walking and looked beside and behind her before looking at me. Oh. I guess she wanted me to join her. I quickly looked for mother, seeing her taking a break from teaching the kids. She glances over to me and Juana before nodding and continuing her conversation with Mr. Peck. I slowly rose from my position, my knees creaking. Juana smiled as she sees me get up and walks to the drawing table.

By the time she's seated, I'm pulling out a green chair. It was a little small and uncomfortable, but it worked. "So Juana, what's our theme?" I questioned. Whenever someone was at the drawing table, there had to be a theme and every kid had to draw that theme. Juana again looks around. "Li-li-brary." Juana stuttered, pulling out a brown crayon from the crayon bucket. "Okay, that works." I said, also pulling out a brown crayon. Plus, a library would be easy for my crappy drawing skills.

We worked for a few minutes. The only sounds that were in the room was the GFP and the crayons against paper. Juana would occasionally looked around and then continue drawing. I didn't need to look around, I have been in and out of this library since I was two. Pretty soon I was done, but Juana was still drawing. I decided to wait for her, and focus on the GFP. They were now on punctuation marks. I could tell you right away that the kids were exclamation marks while Juana was a period. Maybe she was declarative or imperative.

Juana slides her paper to me when she's finished, grabbing mine to look at in return. Her drawing was really good for a five year old and you could tell what was what. It made it even ironic was that, instead of words for the book covers, she put scribbles. It really was a good drawing. "Hey, Juana?" I got her attention, "Do you want to write you name on the back? And maybe I could take your drawing home and you could take mine. Would you like that?" I asked, hoping she would say yes.

Juana smiled and handed my drawing back to me as I handed hers back. She grabbed a purple crayon while I grabbed a blue crayon. She slowly started to write her name, contraindicating to get it to be neat, while I took not even five seconds writing my name in messy handwriting. "Here." Juana's soft voice said, holding up her drawing. I smiled and handed mine to her. She looked at it and then held it carefully, like it was a diamond. I didn't want to fold her drawing to stick it in my pocket, so I just held on to it. Juana sat with me for a minuet before running off to a group of girls. I heard her brag about how Elliot drew a picture for her and let her keep it.

Soon my mom shouted at me to pack my shit and get ready to leave. I still had Juana's drawing with me in the car.

**\----------------------------**

**"I was forced to sit on a bench with children and learn English grammar." - 'The War Below' : Marsha Forchuk Skrypuch.**


	4. Different Hair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Written 10/19/2019

Everyone in my family had different hair. In fact, it has gotten us in trouble. When mom came to pick one of us up from school, the office lady made them show everything that identified her as our parent. Another time, a store clerk was convinced dad kidnapped us. To be honest, if I had seen a family with the same hair colors as us I would think they were kidnapped too. Or, at least, adopted.

Audrey has strawberry blonde, Ellise has brunette, Chris originally had blonde but dyed it bright fucking red, Iris has ginger, Igene has dirty blonde, I have a mix between blonde and strawberry blonde, mom has a really bright blonde, and dad has brunette mixed with ginger.

I remember when Chris first dyed his hair, I was twelve and Chris fourteen. He first thought of the idea at a sleepover, which mom only let him have because Chris said I would be "allowed' to join. It was fun, and I don't exactly remember how, but the conversation turned to hair colors. Chris' friends thought that it was really weird that we all had different hair colors and teasingly said our mom probably cheated on our dad. We laughed it off, not really mad at them because we too thought of that. The conversation went on and I suggested Chris dye his hair red to be even more of a freakshow then he already was.

The next morning, after everyone at the sleepover got up, we all went to town. At first, we visited the usual spots, the candy store, the video store, all that. But then Chris made us all go to the Dollar Store, not even telling us what he needed. We just shrugged and walked around, picking stuff up that we were going to buy. Chris walks off to the hair section and comes back with red hair dye. Chris' friends and I laughed because we didn't think he was really going to do it. But then he convinced us he was and we laughed at him because the hair dye was in a women's box.

Couple minutes later, Reign was searching up how to dye your hair while we were still in town. Once we got everything, we went back to my house while our parents were at work. An hour or two later Chris' hair was dyed, but it wasn't red. It was bright, orange. We all died laughing about the fact Chris' hair was literally _orange_, and after that Chris started to freak out about what mom was going to say.

Mom always took pride in the fact all of us were different So, she didn't want us to touch our hair. We weren't allowed to cut it, dye it, trim it, put glitter in it, or use hair products in it no matter how much Audrey whined. Chris dying his hair orange was going to give her a heart attack for sure.

Chris definitely got in trouble, people in fucking Canada could probably hear her yell. Soon mom got over it, even relaxed the "Hair Laws" a little bit. Chris has been dying his hair red since then, even if mom stares at it with a little hate.

We all got different hair colors, but that just means we're unique.

**_______________________________**

**"Everybody in our family has different hair." - The House On Mango Street: Sandra Cisneros.**


	5. ^Entry One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Written 10/21/2019. 
> 
> ^I'm making this an actual fiction one day. Probably not any time soon, but look out for it. I already planned the information on Cecil and his family, and is family's history. DO NOT STEAL. :)

Hello, leather journal. I am Cecil Damien Mathis, an Omegan fourteen year old boy from Kingdom Mahendra. Specifically, I'm from Brayden, the poorest village in Mahendra. To be honest, I never thought I would save enough money for a journal - or that I'd be interested in keeping a diary.

I guess my interest started when I saw a boy from Marshall, another village. He was writing in the prettiest book I've ever seen, and when I got close I realized the pages where blank except for lines. I asked what he was doing, He said he was keeping records of everything he did and learned so he could one day look back on it. After that, I went to the library to look up what you actually did with a diary. Mary Jane once took her old one for show and tell and read a few entries, but her's was pretty boring. Did everyone keep record of what they ate? Every hour?

Turned out, no. The official definition for diary is "A book in which one keeps a daily record of events and experiences.". An example I got was when Anne Frank kept a diary full of her thoughts. After a while, I wanted to do it to, even though it wouldn't really matter to anyone but me. I went home to eat dinner with mother and then dreamed of my journal in my sleep.

The next day, I went to the shop in Lambert, the village that had the closest store. I looked around many shops before I finally saw it. A thick, leather book with blank pages (except lines) and engraved flowers and a fairy on the cover. Problem was, it was $12.06 and I definitely didn't have that kind of money. Neither did mother, who had to keep every penny she had for bills and stuff. Why was a journal $12.06 anyway? I bet it was shipped from Laveme, the richest villages in the Kingdom. It was also the village right in front of the castle of the Royal Family, Mounier.

Was I really going to spend $12.06 on a diary I didn't know I would finish? I decided yes, I was going to work my ass off to got enough money for this plain, beautiful journal. I worked every job I could, from small jobs in the Bakery, the library, the store, working on people's yards, and babysitting (the babysitting included any pets too). Soon enough, two and a half weeks later, I had $13.09, more than enough for the journal. I was bracing myself incase the journal wasn't there anymore, but it was!

When I officially bought it, getting the brown paper bag from the cashier, I felt excitement. And now I'm here, in my small bedroom at my equally small desk writing my first entry! I had an idea I wanted to include even before I bought this journal. I didn't want to just call this a diary or journal, I wanted a name. Not a name that I would actually call someone, though. So, I decided to call this DJ, and combination of Diary and Journal.

Well, DJ this is the start of an adventure.

~Cecil


	6. The Calming Sound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **<strike>Rain</strike>, Coffee, Nightmares, Pain, Escape, A Day In The Life Of A Ghost.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I decided to add more. I have 6 prompts (5 now) to write for October, 13 for November, 12 for December (since my birthday is December 12th), and 17 for January 2020. 
> 
> **POSSIBLE PROMPTS I MIGHT DO:**  
Describe each day of the week as a person. Each get personality traits, jobs, and a goal. - November
> 
> If I'd become a writer, I'd be in jail. - November 
> 
> If I could change one thing, it would be writing my secret down. - January 2020. 
> 
> I wrote this watching Gravity Falls, S2, Episode 2 and 6. I also watched a little of S3, Episode 24 of My Hero Academia. I listen to Naughty or Nice by Cash Cash ft. ADG. 
> 
> ****  
_NOTE AT THE BOTTOM!_  


The calming sound of rain filled the house. Mother was cooking, making little sound, Father was reading his newspaper, and I sat at the coffee table in front of the lit fireplace, writing. The occasional sound of pots banging together, newspaper pages being turned, and the skritch-scratch of my pencil was drowned out by the rain. School was canceled, as it was raining to hard. It was comforting, the usual sound of home.

For some reason, everyone was afraid of rain except my family. _You could end up in an accident_, they say. Maybe if they pushed that fear away they would appreciate all the things rain does for them. It makes the crops and flowers grow, it cools down the weather, and gives free water to all. But I enjoyed running in the rain, the feeling of being free of responsibilities and childlike. It is happy, but depressing at the same time. The sky is gray, the clouds dark, and no light shines through.

"Dinner's ready." Mother says, with her whisper like voice. Never shouting, but never whispering, or talking like others. She had her own way of speaking. Father groans as he gets up from his chair, setting the now folded newspaper on the arm rest. He rarely speaks, but his body expressions and actions show his opinions and who he is. I set my pencil down on the school assignment I was writing and followed. The rain continued on.

Today's dinner was chicken, with loaded mashed potatoes, gravy, peas, sauces, wine for my parents, and Pepsi for me. For some strange reason, smells from the kitchen never carried on into the living room, or any room in the house. Father jokingly said it was magic the one time I asked. Mother said it's because the house didn't want to make you unbearably hungry before dinner. I say it's a mixture of those things.

And while we have a quiet conversation, the rain continues, bringing peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These prompts do not have an uploading schedule. I upload whenever, where ever. Don't whine :).


	7. Fake Energy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **<strike>Rain, Coffee</strike>, Nightmares, Pain, Escape, A Day In The Life Of A Ghost.**

You know, there are days when I can remember exactly what Mama and Papa put in their coffee -and what they smelled like. When I do remember the childhood smell, I feel happy. It was when life was simpler, when I didn't have a job that made me work six days a week, eight hours each. When I didn't need coffee myself to keep me awake, no, I had the energy only a child could have. It seemed that energy never ran out and went on for days and days, until it finally ran out and I passed out on my bed. Now, I have to have at least three cups if "Fake Energy" - what Sarah calls coffee - to stay awake the whole day.

But then, when I'm not trying to pass out on my desk and it's a good day, I remember all the good mornings that started with the smell of Mama and Papa's coffee. Mama, cinnamon and sugar, Papa, milk and cream. I remember once when they tried each other's coffee and abruptly spit it out. They jokingly made fun of each other and argued which was better. I stayed out of it since I liked both of their coffees. I was so much happier then.

When I woke up this morning, I could swear I heard Mama and Papa talking in whispers and the smell of their coffees filling the air. But that was impossible. Mama and Papa died years ago, and I doubt they would want to come back to the land of the living. It must be my old age. Maybe my time is coming soon. But, until then, I'll remember the happier times.


	8. Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **<strike>Rain, Coffee, Nightmares</strike>, Pain, Escape, A Day In The Life Of A Ghost.**

"Now I lay me down to sleep,

I pray the Lord my soul to keep;

If I should die before I wake,

I pray the Lord my soul to take."

* * *

Nightmares and dreams were a normal thing. They happened all the time, all around the world. But...I felt like my nightmares weren't normal. Each night I wake up sweating, my heart trying to beat out of my chest. I try to calm down, but I _can't_ because I feel like the dark is staring at me. I know the dark physically can't have eyes, but I swear something's staring at me from all round my room. I even had nightmares of the eyes. Blue, green, red, orange, yellow, brown, hazel, it didn't matter what color they were or what they looked like - it still scared me. And each and every time I complain to mom, or Uncle Ghime, they just shrug me off.

It got worse when I could actually see the thing that was staring at me. When I wake up, still sweating and heart beating like crazy, I **_see_** it. It doesn't have a body, it's just a shadow figure. But it's eyes stand out the most. A combination of red and orange, absolutely frightening. I actually screamed when I first saw it and hid under my covers like they would protect me. When I asked mom and Uncle Ghime the next morning, the said they didn't hear me scream. And when mom checked on me (a habit of her's) at the exact same time, I was safely asleep.

Now, I don't bother to complain. I just accept my fate. It can touch me now, usually on my leg or arm if it's handing off my bed. It's left scratches before, only ones that I could see. These past few nights it grabs me and jerks my leg. One day it's going to pull me toward it and do God knows what, and I'll let it. Nobody will remember me anyway.


	9. Feeling The World Go Against Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **<strike>Rain, Coffee, Nightmares, Pain</strike>, Escape, A Day In The Life Of A Ghost.**

Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it. -J. K. Rowling

* * *

Pain has been a thing in my life a lot. The time I broke my leg, the time I broke my arm, the time I broke my collar bone, the time my first boyfriend broke up with me, you get it. But no pain compares to this one.

I'm I not good enough? Is that it? Am I too geeky, or nerdy? What's wrong with me, what do I need to change!? How bad could I have messed up that my parents think I'm worthless!? My sister Lisa says they don't think I'm worthless, but why won't they look at me?

"Hey, Tris! What are you doing?" Lisa asked me, sitting on the living room couch. "Nothing." I mumbled, mindlessly watching the T.V.. "Well...what did you do today?" she tried to start a conversation. I didn't answer. Eventually, Lisa got up and went to her room. That was okay. Sometime passed while I slipped into my mind. I got back just in time to hear my parents in the kitchen, talking about me.

"...what are we supposed to do?" Mother whispered-yelled. She did that a lot, usually when she was mad.

"I don't know! Maybe send him to a summer camp?"

"A summer camp?! A summer camp! What's a summer camp going to do?!"

"Get him actual friends, for starters! Maybe even give him some talents."

"And if that doesn't work?"

"I....I don't know."

There was a pause for a minute. I knew they were talking about me. They didn't need to use my name.

"How...how did we end up with a kid like Tristan?"

There it was. I didn't want to hear anymore. I quickly, but silently, went up to my room.

Yeah. There was no pain like this.


	10. Books Are Our Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **<strike>Rain, Coffee, Nightmares, Pain, Escape</strike>, A Day In The Life Of A Ghost.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day or so late, but that's okay! 
> 
> Also, I hate the name Lisa. Sorry to all the Lisas our there, but I don't like how it sounds.

I like to escape from the world a lot. I use different methods, drawing, sleeping, writing, but the one I use the most are books. Not non-fiction books, those are just real life in print. Fiction books are where it's at. You visit a magic village, or a world filled with inexpiable things, or a terrifying world. They can take you anywhere, and you can be anyone. It's wonderful.

And it's exactly what made me stuck in this situation.

"Come on! You know you want to!" Lisa whined to me. She has been going on like this for almost an hour. "No, Lisa! I'm not going to the fair!" I repeated, turning a page in my _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_ book. "Christie, please! I told you about this months ago, and you said yes!" Lisa complained to me. I know I said yes, but I was busy reading _The House On Mango Street_. Which also means I was distracted.

"Alright, fine! I'll go!" I finally yelled. Good God. "Yes! Come on!" Lisa dragged me up to my room. For the next hour, she dug in her make up bag she brought and applied said make up to me. By the end, I thought I looked like a clown, but Lisa said I looked perfect. She dug through my closet until she found the one dress and pair of high heels in there. They were both green, but the dress was a dark green. I was planning to throw it away when my mom bought it, I don't know why I didn't.

We then took a two hour drive to the fair. I clung to the messenger bag containing my phone, random pieces of candy, and small books in case I was right and it was too much for me. Lisa kept excitingly telling me about all the fun stuff we would do. I wasn't paying attention at all, going into my imaginary world.

At last we were there, and it was loud. We got our hand stamped with our tickets and began to go play the games. It was fun, trying to knock the three bottles over and winning stuffed animals. Then we got to the rides, which were fun at first, but then Lisa kept on wanting to try one after another, and it got to much.

"Hey, I'm going to go sit down for a while, okay?" I asked Lisa, still clutching my messenger bag. "Sure!" she excitedly giggled, waiting in line for a ride. I quickly retreated, going to a picnic table. I opened my messenger bag to pull out one of my small books. As I read, the world disappeared. It wasn't too loud anymore. It was perfect.

Yes, books are my escape.


	11. My Afterlife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ** <strike>Rain, Coffee, Nightmares, Pain, Escape, A Day In The Life Of A Ghost.</strike> **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Ignore that this is three days late.12:05 AM.) 
> 
> **_1,865 words!_** This took for-fucking-ever! But it's finally done! Haha! 
> 
> On to the November prompts!

Being a ghost wasn't that bad. You got to do whatever you wanted, when you wanted. Sure, you sometimes miss being able to talk to people the normal way instead of using objects, but it was fine. Then it was _where_ you died and _how_ you died. Like, I died in my house by a fire. Luckly, I was the only one home when the neighbors' kids decided to play with gasoline and see what they could put on fire.

Since it was a fire, my house was totally destroyed. But, at the time, we were moving so all of our shit was in boxes, outside. After my family discovered that their house burned down and their fourteen year old died, they actually kept my stuff. Well, they didn't keep it, they buried the boxes in the backyard as an offering to me, but still.

Then you had to deal with what the living people do/did to your death site. My death site is still a house, not what my house looked like, but a house. A lot of families came and went, but one decided to stay. The Weber family, containing the parents and three kids, stayed through the years. Norman and Edna Weber moved in when their oldest, Leon Weber (seventeen), was still in Edna's womb. So I watched Leon grow up, along with two others. Darrin (thirteen) and Jeannie (seven) Weber.

I didn't mind them staying at my death site. Sometimes I liked to have fun though, so I talked to Jeannie. Norman and Edna believed I was just an imaginary best friend and left Jeannie and I alone. They didn't mind that Jeannie looked like she was talking to herself or when pieces of paper with a person older than seven handwriting appeared. They were perfectly fine with an "imaginary best friend".

I had other ghost to talk to, too. Marilyn, the eight eight year old ghost across the street. She's been there since 1978. Fred, the twenty year old next door on the left, been there since 1987. Jazmine, the thirty three year old next door to the right, been there since 1990.

Oh, speaking of ghost names, I should introduce myself. Anthony Abbott, fourteen, died in house fire, been here since 1999. Now that I've given you information, here's a day in the life of a ghost.

* * *

I was in the kitchen watching Edna cook breakfast. I sat on the corner counter, so I wouldn't be touched (through). Ghost don't sleep. Edna poked the eggs with a spatula before calling people down. "Norman! Leon, Darren, Jeannie, lets go! Breakfast is done!" Edna yelled up the stairs. I knew for a fact Norman was already awake and dressed, Leon was playing video games, Darren finished any homework, and Jeannie asleep waiting for Norman to wake her up. Soon enough, everyone was down stairs. Norman in a suit, carrying Jeannie who was wearing purple pajamas, Darren in his school uniform, and Leon in a sport shirt and shorts. For some reason, Darren didn't go to the same school as Jeannie and Leon.

"Mommy, guess what?!" Jeannie asked Edna, being sat in her chair. "What?" Edna asked in a baby voice. I never understood why people do that. "Anthony said after school, he would draw with me!" Jeannie revealed, showing her mom the piece of paper I wrote on last night. I was bored and figured I could give Jeannie something to look forward to. "That's great! Do both want snacks?" Edna asked while glancing at Norman. It was cute to them that Jeannie had an imaginary friend.

After that, it was a normal breakfast. Leon and Darren went to wait in the car while Edna slightly cleaned up and Norman went to help Jeannie get dressed. While Edna had her back turned, I grabbed an extra piece of toast and took it to the living room. I set it behind a book on the T.V. stand. It was a game Leon, Darren, Jeannie, and I played. Leon and Darren thought their parents were the ones hiding stuff while Edna and Norman thought it was Jeannie and let us have our fun.

Jeannie and Norman came back down stairs, this time with Jeannie dressed in an orange dress with black shoes. Pumpkin themed, I guess. Norman and Edna talked for a while before Norman and Jeannie also went to the car. Edna then started to clean up more as we heard the car start and leave. Edna hummed while she worked, as usual. What I didn't like about the Webers, is that everyday was almost the same. Edna followed schedule, cleaning up for an hour or two. I don't really know, I'd have to be watching the clock to tell the time. For ghost, time doesn't pass. It feels the same, even if the setting and people do.

"Well, what do we have here?" Edna asked as she found the piece of toast I hid. I was now sitting on the couch, near the rainbow pillow. "Jeannie, what have I told you about hiding food?" Edna mumbled to herself, but smiled all the same. I still don't know how they think it's Jeannie setting up the game. "Just put this here and wait, I guess." Edna put the piece of toast back. This time I watched the clock, and five minutes passed before Edna stopped cleaning and went to work. Finally. I liked Edna, but I wanted to talk to the other ghost.

I stepped outside, really walking through the front door. It felt weird, but you got used to it the more time you were a ghost. You could also go through things at will, liked sitting on the couch. I used to fall through it all the time. Anyway, I sat on the front steps, waiting for the others. Marilyn was the first one to come out, holding her cat that died with her. "Marilyn, hello!' I shouted to her from across the road. The living couldn't hear us speak, but they felt a cold wind past them. It's why we had to be careful. "Hello, Anthony! How're you this fine mornin'?" Marilyn asked as she walked across the street to sit beside me. "I'm good, same old stuff happened.

Marilyn and I talked a while before Jazmine and Fred came to sit bedside us. We were the only ghost in this neighborhood, so we had to stick together. The ghost in the next neighborhood over were really ugly in personality, so we didn't talk to them. They didn't talk to us either.

"Hey, guys. Got any news today?" I asked as they sat down. "Oh! Luce had her a baby boy! Jack and Suzanne didn't know if she could take care of 'em, but I know she can! He's the prettiest baby I've ever see'!" Jazmine gushed about her death site owners.

* * *

"Well, I'll be on my way. Alex is gettin' home." Marilyn informed as she picked up Georgie (her cat). "Aw, already?" Jazmined whined. She hated have someone to talk to without writing stuff down. "Afraid so. Fred should be gettin' back too, I heard Alicia was going to be back early." Marilyn said as she slowly walked back to her death site. "Really?" Fred asked, jumping up and walking with Marilyn. "Aw, guess 'll be goin' too. Bye An'honey." Jazmine waved as she walked to her death site also. "Bye!" I shouted to her, but also to Marilyn and Fred, both of them still walking.

I got up and glided through the door, going to sit on the couch. I only had to wait a few minutes before I heard cars parking in the driveway. Next I heard car doors slamming and people talking. I waited while the front door was unlocked and Leon, Darrin, and Jeannie went looking for the item I had hidden. They rushed around, lifting movable objects and trying to see behind unmovable objects. Finally, Darrin found it.

"I found it, I found it!" he celebrated as he lifted the piece of toast. The winner of the game got five pieces of candy, plus $5.00. Leon and Jeannie whined while Edna gave him his candy and Norman got out his wallet. "Why toast?" Norman asked as he fished out $5.00. "I don't know. Maybe "Anthony" wanted to eat it later." Edna said as she glanced at Jeannie. As always when there was a hidden food game piece, she sat it on the counter. She pretends that I eat it, but really she throws it away.

Leon, Darrin, and Jeannie then worked on any homework or school project they needed to get done at the kitchen table. The one thing I wouldn't miss about being alive is going to school and getting homework. I watched as Jeannie had to color a picture full of math problems, Leon had to write an essay about WWII, and Darrin had to write an essay about a book. Two hours passed, and Edna started dinner as Norman and the kids watched T.V., making comments now and then. I always liked seeing what came on T.V. since I died. In 1999, T.V. shows were a lot different. We watched _Hey, Arnold, Family Guy, The Simpsons, Powerpuff Girls, _and_ Ed, Edd, and Eddy _was just starting. Now, there were a lot more T.V. shows.

Dinner was BBQ chicken with mashed potatoes and other things. After dinner the kids had bath night, and then after that free time. I knew what they were doing. Leon was playing video games while texting his girlfriend, Darron was pretending to watch internet videos while texting his secret boyfriend, and Jennie was playing with her dolls. Then came bedtime.

Norman made sure Leon and Darrin were in bed while Edna had a talk with Jeannie. "Jeannie, what did I say about hiding food?" Edna asked, tucking Jeannie in. "But I didn't hide the toast, Anthony did!" Jeannie answered, looking at the corner I was standing in. It was my corner, with drawings of me and letters we wrote each other. "Well, tell "Anthony" he's not allowed to do that." Edna said. She said her goodnights and left. Jeannie waited a few seconds before getting up and going to my corner, sitting at the table and turning on the little lamp. She took out a piece of notebook paper and two pencils.

_Anthony, mommy said not to hide food. _

Her handwriting was adorable.

_ I know. But I didn't know what else to hide.  _

_Maybe hide a paper with a message on it. _

_ Good idea. Now go to bed.  _

Jeannie sat down her pencil and went to bed. I waited until she was asleep before I took another piece of paper.

_ I'm not allowed to hide food anymore. I hope you buy good things with your $5.00. Good luck! :) _

I folded the paper and went to go find a hiding spot. I looked around for about ten minutes before I decided to hide it behind the microwave. After that, I sat on the couch and waited for morning.

This is the "interesting" life of a fourteen, house fire victim, ghost from 1999. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did y'all dress-up as for Halloween? I went as Coraline, from the book and movie (2009).


	12. Traditional Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **<strike>Music</strike>, Eyes, Blue, Dare, Owl, Scream, Monster, Path, Guess, Ink.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how the hell this became an anti-racism thing. This is not what I had in mind, but I'm not rewriting it. Fuck you if you think I will just because you demand it :).

When you think about it, you can make music out of everything. Sometimes it doesn't sound good, but it's still music. That's what my friends don't understand.

"But it sounds horrible! Music is supposed to sound good!" Claire argued with me after hearing one of the kids in music class. "Is he holding an instrument? Is he making sound? Then it's music, it doesn't have to sound good." I roll my eyes. Claire's always been the dramatic-popular-white girl. That would be alright if she wasn't a little bit racist and dumb, "proving" to people that blonde people are stupid. To be fair though, in a lot of books blonde people are the stupid people.

"Real music sounds good..." Claire gave up, swinging her hair over her shoulder. I really didn't know why I was friends with her. All I could remember from 6th Grade is that Jami introduced us and soon Claire started hanging out with us. I tried to stay away from her and not talk to her, but apparently she doesn't take a hint. Like her ex-boyfriends - or boyfriends.

Actually, hearing the music and seeing the Music Festival posters remind me of that book _The First Rule of Punk _by Celia C. Pérez. Man, I bet our school Music Festival isn't going to be as exciting as Malú's. I wonder if my mom would let me dye me hair...not green, but another color?

By the time I get back to the real world, Claire's talking about a dress she bought and what "Steven" might think about it. Thankfully, I'm saved by Kristie coming out of her biology class. "Hey guys! What're you talking about?" Kristie asks us as she carried five books. "Claire's going on again about how sound has to sound good to be music." I rolled my eyes again.

"Oh God, Claire. Music can be anything, from trash can lids to pots and pans. Stop having your white blonde girl moments." Kristie also rolled her eyes. Yes, that statement was a little bit stereotypical, but Kristie got to be stereotypical with Claire. Remember when I said Claire "a little bit racist and dumb"? Well, she's racist. See, Kristie is Chinese and her family does the Chinese traditions (most of them at least) even though they don't live in China. On the very first day in 8th grade, Kristie packed her own lunch. And you know what Claire said? "Hey, where's the cat meat? You all eat cats right?".

Claire firmly believes Chinese and Japanese people eat cats. She still does, no matter what anyone tells her. I believe Claire would've said something about chopsticks if Kristie didn't have them in her hand. That wasn't the worse comment she made. To the black kids she asked them if their dads stayed, the Russian kids she asked them if they had bombs, to the Afghanistan kids she asked them if they had drugs and if they had four wives, and so on. You can tell our school is mixed, right? Anyway, with Claire being racist, she absolutely hates their traditional music. She says "it's not real music and shouldn't be played in schools". That's what lead up to us talking at all. I just can't stand Claire being racist. I don't know what Jami sees in her.

As Claire, Kristie, and I walked through the hallway we walked past the announcement board. The only thing on it was the Music Festival poster and little notes. I read some and soon realized they were all pointed at Claire. Saying the were going to play their traditional music whether the "white-girl-idiot" liked it or not. Some of the notes were even written in their first language, the only stuff in English were insults.

I smiled. Yes, the Music Festival was going to be very fun indeed.


	13. Windows To The Soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **<strike>Music, Eyes</strike>, Blue, Dare, Owl, Scream, Monster, Path, Guess, Ink.**
> 
> Two chapters in one day! Now I have the rest of November to write the rest.

Eyes can be a lot of things. Creepy, bright, beautiful, dull, watery, etc. They also carry expressions. Anger, sadness, happiness, confusion, all that.

People often ask why Harry Potter never fixed his eyes with magic. I've given one answer. The eyes are windows to your soul. Change the eyes, and the windows change - or your soul could change. I find that an interesting thought. How would be know our soul changed? We can't see it, hear it, touch it, or smell it. What if we couldn't tell if our soul changed, but others could? Like in fairy tales. You soul is good until something happens and others can see it change but you can't, so it never changed for you.

I like drawing eyes. The eyes with the scene behind them? Drew those all my life. I have a ton of drawing from when I was seven. They're bad, but still. And yes, I draw anime eyes too. All kinds of them. I have a whole sketchbook full of anime eyes, all different shapes, sizes, and colors. Some were drawn with a crayon, some with a colored pencil, and them some straight from a pen. The other kids find it creepy that I draw bloody eyes during class, but I find it entertaining. I also like to look at people's eyes and draw them. Sometimes I even give printed copy to them. I know they might end up in the trash, but it's "the thought that counts".

Sometimes mom comes home with anger in her eyes. Dad follows her through the doorway with sadness in his eyes. I don't like when this happens. It usual means whisper-yelling fights and fights when they think I'm asleep. Dad loses them all, just lets mom run him over. I don't like it. It means they'll be like this for the next week - or month. I runaway to Reina's house when this happens, give an excuse that my parents want a night to themselves. I don't think Reina believes me.

Reading eyes has gotten me out of situations. Like when the popular girls/guys are annoyed or angry. Or when a teacher is going to be extra strict today. Or when to stay out of mom's way....yeah - eyes have basically saved me my whole life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still waiting for comments and opinions :).


	14. Blue Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **<strike>Music, Eyes, Blue</strike>, Dare, Owl, Scream, Monster, Path, Guess, Ink.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish more people would read this ༼ಢ_ಢ༽. Just 52-53 hits...

You know what’s a great color? Blue. Yeah, it’s a stereotypical boy color, but I like it. Hell, I even have pink sprinkled in me room if that makes you happy. My sister, Megan, says I like too much. She only says that because of my room though. The walls are a dark blue, my bedframe is teal, the rest of my furniture is some shade of blue, and my carpet is aqua. If it’s not a shade of blue, it’s hidden in a blue box. Give me a break though, I chose all of it when I was seven and we (I - my parents don’t want to pay for it again) don’t have enough money to change it. 

It’s to the point that I went Percy and Sally Jackson and chose blue food. But - blue is a great color. You know, despite it being the symbol of sadness (apparently?). There’s so many  _ shades _ ! Blue eyes are also really pretty! I guess I got lucky that my favorite color is my eye color. 

\----------------

“Hey, it’s Blue Boy!” I heard someone shout from the end of the hallway. Did I mention all my clothes and school crap are blue? I turn to wave at them, but a teacher yelled “Max, get to class!”. I listened to the teacher and headed to the class I was most excited for - art class! This semester we’re drawing prompts in our school-provided sketchbooks. Mrs. Ian was just going to staple paper together, but the school said “fuck it” and bought twenty sketchbooks. 

Of course, I draw in a blue pencil and color with different shades of blue. I want to change, but I have a school theme. People know me as “Blue Boy” for a reason. 

I walk into Mrs. Ian’s brightly painted room and immediately go sit next to my friends, Alex and Jared. The people surrounding the spot are school acquaintances, nothing more. “Hey, Max, do you know what today’s prompt is?” Jared asked, sketchbook open. I don’t know why he never looks at the board, where the teacher always as it displayed. I did a quick check and answered, “It’s rain.”. Alex smirked, “So you get you use your blue colored pencils and it make sense?”. I rolled my eyes and softly punched his arm. “Screw you, I always make sense.”. 

By then Mrs. Ian had shut the door and walked to the front of the room. She did her routine, introducing the prompt of the day and being all fake exciting to see our drawings. She then let us start drawing, emphasizing the need to put the date on our page. While Jared and Alex used their mechanical pencils, I got out my teal pencil case and chose a dark blue colored erasable pencil. 

I then spent the whole class goofing off and laughing at the things my peers said and ended up drawing something like this: A boy/girl (you can’t really tell, I had no gender in mind) sitting at a window seat with their head resting on their palm looking out the window to see it’s raining. I used a different shade of blue to kind of outline and shade some things. 

I then put my sketchbook in my cubie, grabbed my stuff, and walked out with Alex and Jared. The day went by with more shade of blue, and I even got a blue flower from a peer. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took so much time to write and it's crappy...ヘ(￣ー￣ヘ)


	15. Truth...or Dare?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **<strike>Music, Eyes, Blue, Dare</strike>, Owl, Scream, Monster, Path, Guess, Ink.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _CHARACTERS:_ Janis, Kristene, Lorene, Ivy, Blake, Leland, Quinn, Connor.
> 
> 3:16 AM update 〜(￣△￣〜).

_ Ultra Gay GC _

**JanisCannis: ** Y’all want to come over and play truth or dare? 

_ Seven users typing… _

**BlakeCake: ** Sure, I really don’t want to do homework. 

**LelandPlaned: ** Especially math. Ugh. 

**IvySee: ** and science… 

**KristneGene:** ^ Capital! 

**ConnerHonor: ** And English (ﾉ￣д￣)ﾉ

**QuinnFlinn: ** Y’all coming? I raced here. 

**IvySee: ** ε=ε=ε=ε=┏(;￣▽￣)┛

**ConnorHonor: ** Oh, I hate that. 

* * *

“Alright, y’all ready?” Janis asked her friends, sitting around her bedroom carpet. “Quit saying y’all so much.” Quinn whispered to himself. Janis glanced at Quinn but said nothing. “Who’s going first?” Lorene asked, opening a bag of chips. “Hm..” Janis looked around the carpet. “....Kristne.Truth or dare?” Janis asked. “Truth.” Kristne answered as she stole one of Lorene’s chips. “Aw, boring!” Connor groaned. “Shut up, Connor. Okay…..how many boyfriends have you had?” Janis smiled. “None.” Kristne smartly answered, glancing at the other players. “Connor, truth or dare?” Kristne asked, sitting back. 

“Dare!” Connor smirked, sitting up. “Create a new dance move!” Kristne giggled. Connor got up and started “dancing”, really just waving his arms and legs for a minute. Everyone was laughing at him, but he smirked. Connor sat back down and immediately started again. “Blake, T or D?” Connor asked, rubbing his hands. “Dare.” Blake asked, fully laying down on his side. 

“Give a nickname to everyone in the room. It can’t be our chat names.” Connor continued smirking. This one was a hard one. Blake didn’t think so, however. 

Blake thought for a minute. Hoe would he give everyone a nickname that wasn’t their chat name? They all had to sit down for half an hour to choose their chat names! Maybe off their personalities? Likes? Dislikes? Family? Hm.

“Organizer.” He pointed at Janis. 

“Cat Girl.” He pointed at Kristne. 

“Plant.” He pointed at Ivy. 

“Gum Girl.” He pointed at Lorene. 

“Geography” He pointed at Leland.

“Harley.” He pointed at Quinn. 

“....asshole” He pointed at Connor. 

“Hey! I’m not an asshole!” Connor yelled. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Blake waved him off, “Leland, truth or dare?”. “Truth, man!” Leland smiled, rocking back and forth. “Would you rather kiss a boy, girl, or nonbinary?” Blake asked, he probably already knew the answer. “All.” Leland didn’t hesitate. “Oh, that explains a lot.” Ivy muttered to herself. She’d seen Leland almost kiss people. 

“Ivy, truth or dare?” Leland questioned, leaning on the couch. “Dare..?” Ivy answered. “Wear your socks on your hands for the rest of the game.”. “Ugh, Leland!” Ivy sighed, but began to take off her shoes. Her socks were pink with light pink bunnies on them. She put them on her hands while she asked the next player, “Quinn, truth or dare?”. “I’ll take truth or $100,000!” Quinn dramatical said. “What is the weirdest thing you’ve eaten?” Ivy asked, adjusting her socks. 

“Probably the snail I tried when I went to France.” Quinn answered, trying to think back. “Ew, you ate a snail?!” Blake gagged. “I bit the end of it, it was so gross!” Quinn answered, remembering the taste. He tried not to gag. “Oh my God, ew.” Connor screwed his face up. “Janis, truth or dare?” Quinn asked, forgetting the taste. “...Dare.” Janis said after a few minutes of questioning whether it was worth it. “Pose like a model.” Quinn spit out. 

Janis quickly got into her position. “Draw me like one of your French girls.” she dramatically said. Connor giggled and got out his phone to get a picture. Janis sat up after Connor’s picture and looked around the carpet. “...Leland. Truth or dare?” she questioned, resting her head on her palm. “Truth.” Leland answered, choosing the safer option with Janis. “Who is your best looking friend?” Janis smirked. Leland looked around for a minute, not giving away any emotion. 

After a while he answered. “Connor.” he quickly said, putting his hand over his mouth. “Let’s go!” Connor yelled, throwing his hands up despite his friends’ groans. After that, they played or a while before they left. 


	16. Animal Traits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **<strike>Music, Eyes, Blue, Dare, Owl</strike>, Scream, Monster, Path, Guess, Ink.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda hate this, but....¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> (12:44 AM update, ay! ＼(^▽^)ノ)

My friends and I remind me of animals. In fact, we always did. I kept quiet until I was nine, and when we went to the zoo, the idea just decided to pop out. ‘Why don’t we give ourselves an animal trait?’ was basically what I said. That night, during a sleepover, we planned the whole thing out. For like five minutes we thought about which animal we were going to be. Sheri picked pig, Megan picked horse, and I, April, picked owl. 

Sheri said she picked pig because she ate messy, liked mud, was a little bit chubby, and her favorite color was a shade of pink. Megan picked horse because she liked to run, she had “bad” teeth, flies liked to fly around her, and she was freakishly tall compared to us. I picked owl because I had big, hazel eyes, I said “who?” a lot because I couldn’t hear well, and I liked salted nuts more than Sheri and Megan. We were kinda making fun of ourselves, but in a childish way. We didn’t plan on this becoming a thing, we even drew ourselves as our animal. 

Soon though, we started calling each other nicknames. Peppa (Pig) for Sheri, Pony for Megan, and Hedwig for me. It went from when we were alone, to at school. Years passed, and as far as we were concerned, we were Peppa, Pony, and Hedwig. For our senior quotes we put “I am…” and put Peppa (Pig), Pony, and Hedwig. We were also known as those nicknames through college (as far as we are). 

It makes me happy that a thing I’ve started when we were nine stuck. It makes me happy that a childhood thing stayed until adulthood. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is first thing I thought of when I say the prompt. ＼（－－）／


	17. Over Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **<strike>Music, Eyes, Blue, Dare, Owl, Scream</strike>, Monster, Path, Guess, Ink.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dunno man, I had a hard time with this (ﾉ´ｰ`)ﾉ. 1:10 AM update (and second of the day)!

My area was weird. You would hear random noises when no one was there. Knocking on the door, footsteps, a cup being set down, the T.V. being turned on, lights being turned off. Honestly, if I didn’t live here with my sister, her boyfriend, and their friend, I would be gone. All I could do was sit wherever I was and wait for the noise to pass, scared out of my mind. I wanted to run to my sister, but I was afraid that she would make fun of me. That was stupid, because she was scared of the noises also. 

The worst noise were the screams. Random screams from all over the house would sound whenever. It scared the absolute shit out of us if it was quiet before the screams. My sister’s boyfriend, Saul, was cooking when the screams went off, causing him to get a really bad burn. And then their friend, Alex, was under a shelf, trying to fix it, when a scream went off. They jumped, causing them to hit the car, giving them a bump on the head. 

You got used to the screams over time, but you still jumped when they sounded. It got worse when it was night. If you were in the state of sleeping and being awake, it scared the crap out of you. If you were staying up, you kinda expected it. It annoyed all of us, especially Sarah, my sister, because she consistently poked herself in the eye with her makeup. 

At first, we were debating if we should call someone for the noises. But then, we all decided we didn’t want people thinking we were crazy, and so we didn’t call anyone. Still haven’t. We have noticed the noises seem to happen less and less. Hopefully, with time, the noises will stop - including the screams. Maybe. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this good? No. Is it okay? No. （⌒▽⌒）
> 
> Break time though, so (〜￣▽￣)〜


	18. The World Is Your Canvas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **<strike>Music, Eyes, Blue, Dare, Owl, Scream, Monster</strike>, Path, Guess, Ink.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Interesting way of writing the prompt "Monster", I think. 
> 
> 2:11 AM update. Last update of November 23, 2019 (last update for today, basically.) (´ヮ`)

The world is your canvas...what you do with it, beware. 

* * *

_3/12/1969_

You can create a lot with just your mind. Like the computer, lightbulb,..monsters. It fascinates me that you can create a whole world with your mind, and what people actually do with it, is to create these horrific beings that bring self doubt and hate. Or “the devil on you shoulder”. Why not create something everyone could enjoy? Like the Disney’s retelling of fairy tales! He took something dark, and made it beautiful. 

Oh, but there are other monsters. Like the shadows that move, or the noises at night. Or...people. People who abuse, hurt, damage, and crumble. Maybe...those people imagined monsters so great, they became those monsters. Maybe ...oh, but that’s no fact. Just thought, my friend. Don’t take a mad man’s thoughts seriously, they say. 

But, hear me out, maybe the things we humans imagine become so powerful, they take over. They drown the imaginer in their dark ink, and swallow them whole, taking their souls and personalities away to a dark land. 

Maybe this is all nonsense. But, I intend to find out. They may doubt me, ridicule me, and drag me down, but, mark my words, I will find out! 

_ **-Dr. Guzman, psychologist at Hutman Asylum** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don't get it,** it's basically a letter by Dr. Daniel Guzman, a psychologist at Hutman Asylum, to anyone that finds it.** I like to think Dr. Guzman actually keeps a journal, and this is a page that was found.


	19. Are We Lost?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **<strike>Music, Eyes, Blue, Dare, Owl, Scream, Monster, Path</strike>, Guess, Ink.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With this posted, there's only two prompts left for November. ヽ( ★ω★)ノ

“Jesus, how long is this path?” Hannah complained, wiping sweat off her face. They had been walking the same path in the woods for two hours and thirty minutes. Noah had wanted to show them something he recently found. “Quit whining, it’s just up here!” Noah said over his shoulder, continuing his walk. “You said that an hour ago..” Luke said to himself, rubbing his leg as he walked. He had weaker legs than the others because he didn’t run track. In all honesty, he wouldn’t have come if Kieran didn’t give him $15.00 before they began their horrid walk. 

Noah just rolled his eyes and continued walking. This is why he liked Kieran the best; he didn’t whine like the others. For a while, the sound of crunching leaves filled the air. 

“Alright, it’s just right...here.” Noah voiced drifted off as he stopped at the edge of a cliff. “Are you kidding me?! You had us walk all the way up here for no reason!?” Hannah yelled. “Oh my God..” Luke murmured. “How about we just look up where we are?” Kieran said, “Hannah, did you bring your phone?”. “Did I bring my phone, this boy asks…” Hannah grumbled, pulling her phone out of her back pocket. 

“It won’t work out here. We’ll have to find one of those police cabins.” Luke said. Soon enough, he was proven right. “What the hell is a police cabin?” Noah asked, turning from the cliff and sitting on a tree trunk nearby. “Kids were going missing, so the mayor had mini police stations put in the woods.” Kieran answered, sitting beside Noah. “Can we wait? My legs really hurt..” Luke asked softly, not really wanting to ask. Noah had started to talk, but Kieran cut in. “Of course. It’s only 7:15 AM.” he said. 

********

Time passed and their little break went on. Kieran silently pulled Luke onto his lap when he wouldn’t sit down, and Hannah brought out the snacks everyone brought. After a couple minutes though, Noah stood up. “Well, come on. We have to find a police cabin.” he sighed, putting stuff back inside his bag. Keiran nodded, gently pushing Luke to stand up. Hannah nodded, not like being in a place full of bugs. 

And so they went to look for a police cabin. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go follow this account's Instagram! (**thisstorydoesntend**)


	20. Guessing Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **<strike>Music, Eyes, Blue, Dare, Owl, Scream, Monster, Path, Guess</strike>, Ink.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ I couldn't think of shit when I saw this prompt. 
> 
> Creative title, I know! Only one more left!

“What are we doing?” Maxim asked his friend, sitting on the floor. In the front of the two boys were pieces of paper and pencils. “We’re playing two truths and a lie. It’s pretty simple, we write down two truths about ourselves and one lie. The other player has to guess which ones the lie.” Sergei explained, picking up a piece of paper, a book to write on, and his pencil. 

“Okay…” Maxim sighed, picking up his materials. They started the game, quickly thinking of two truths and a lie. “You got your facts?” Sergei asked, setting his book on his lap. Maxim nodded, and so Sergei continued. “Okay, my facts are: I like the color yellow, I don’t like steak, and I hate science.” Sergei listed off. Maxim listened carefully, considering the facts. 

He knew for a fact Sergei didn’t like steak, but what about the other two? Oh, Sergei was talking about colors a while ago, what did he say? Oh, he knew what the answer was! 

“You like the color yellow is your lie.” Maxim confidently said. Sergei nodded, and Maxim continued the game. “I don’t like mechanical pencils, I love mexican food, and I don’t read.” Maxim listed off. Sergei thought about it for a minute before saying “You don’t like mechanical pencils is your lie. You use them everyday, in class, and always have extra lead with you.” Sergei said. Maxim nodded. “Okay, Round 2!” Maxim said, grabbing a new piece of paper. 


	21. Ruined Pages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **   
<strike>Music, Eyes, Blue, Dare, Owl, Scream, Monster, Path, Guess, Ink!!</strike>   
**
> 
> _Finished November Prompts!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Chapter 21! This work can now drink!)
> 
> Woo! Finished November prompts at 2:21 AM, 11/30/2019! (~￣▽￣)~
> 
> I guess you could imagine this being Harry Potter. I saw ink and the idea instantly came to my head. ╮(─▽─)╭

“Shit!” Harry yelled as his ink pot tipped over. The ink was spreading quickly to the ten pages he just wrote. He grabbed the ink bottle and a paper towel, wiping it off before putting the lid on. He then picked up his pages and set them on a seperate paper towel while he cleaned the ink off his desk. After he cleaned up and washed his hands, he looked at his ruined pages in disappointment. Hours of work ruined just because of his elbow. 

“Oh well…” he sighed, picking the pages up and throwing them into the trash can. “I’ll just have to...start over..” he said, looking at his ink stained desk. “..and maybe get a new desk.”. He mumbled. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Edit:** It's officially my birthday! (12/12/2019, 12:16 AM)


	22. Can You Do This For Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **<strike>Favor</strike>, Stain, Fireflies, Reflection, Sick, Cook, Cut, Drink.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, we got a late start, but it's fine! 
> 
> Originally, I was going to do 12 prompts for December since it's my birthday month. December 12 (12/12), and I was born on 9:12! But, I removed four prompts, because I just...didn't want to do them. So, now we have **8 prompts**!

“Oh my God, are you serious?!” I sighed to myself. My period had surprised me, and I didn’t know until my underwear was completely ruined, and my pants stained forever. And to make matters worse, when I looked, I had no pads. I had tampons, but I refuse to use those. The one time I did, it hurt so bad, and I didn’t want to worry about leaking everywhere - even with a pantyliner. Plus, it feels like wet cotton balls are shoved in your vagina. 

I had no choice but to call Kendra, my only friend close enough to my apartment. The bad thing was that it was 4:34 AM, and that meant she was asleep. Good thing I charged my phone before all this. 

I tried calling Kendra a couple times, but she wouldn’t pick up. Eventually, I gave up. I was now stuck on the toilet, my ruined underwear and pants beside me (giving off a  _ certain smell _ ) and my back was beginning to hurt. Hurray. I love it. 

I played games on my phone, not for too long, and decided to try again. This time it only took three tries to reach Kendra. “Hello?” she asked, in her usual “I’m tired” voice. “Hey, Kendra? Can I ask you to do me a favor? I’m all out of pads, and the only thing I got are tampons. Can you run to the store?” I hurriedly asked, not giving her time to interrupt. She took a while to answer, but finally, she said, “Wait, why don’t you just use the tampons?”. I sighed loudly before I replied. “Because they hurt! Can you do this for me, please?! I’ll pay you back!” I was getting desperate at this point. 

“Fiiiiiine, what kind of pads?” Kendra answered, and I could hear her get out of bed. “Always, ultra thin, size 5, with wings. Thank you!” I got out before she hung up on me. Well. At least I got her to do this favor. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like it? There's more to come, I'm planning on writing three more prompts today (since we got a late start). 
> 
> **Next prompts:**  
_Stain and Fireflies._


	23. Why White Pants?!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **<strike>Favor, Stain</strike>, Fireflies, Reflection, Sick, Cook, Cut, Drink.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always wondered why they had white pants. Like, it looks nice and all, but the laundry must take _days._ Not to mention girl soldiers periods, and how much money they probably wasted on buying more pants.

“Who’s idea was it for us to have fucking  _ white pants?!  _ We’re getting blood on these almost daily, are you kidding me?!” Eren complained as he dumped a bloodied pair of pants in soapy water. Eren, Jean, Connie, and Ymir were on laundry duty today. 

At first, Eren didn’t care. They have white pants, who cares? But over time, he got more annoyed. Laundry would take  _ hours  _ just because Captain Levi didn’t want a single drop of blood anywhere. It would have been easier, if their pants weren’t  _ fucking  _ _ WHITE. _

Which brought them to this argument. 

“Whoever did was a dumbass..” Jean mutterted, folding a dry (and stainless) pair of pants. “Did they not expect them to get blood on them?” Ymir snorted, hanging up clothes to dry. She was especially salty of the white pants, because everytime she had her period, she would worry she’d bleed through. It wouldn’t be hard to notice bright red on her crotch while wearing white pants. 

“I don’t know about that, but if Sasha doesn’t quit spilling things on her pants, Imma kill her.” Connie sighed, hand washing pants that had food stains on them. “Doubt that’s going to happen..” Eren muttered. He was on Period Pants Duty ™, since Connie and Jean were too embarrassed to touch them, and Ymir didn’t want to touch another girl’s period blood. Eren was used to washing bleed through pants, having washed his mom and Mikasa’s pants (or skirts - dresses, whatever.). 

He was honestly surprised Connie and Jean didn’t help with that chore. Eren had helped because it would take his mom a while to finish the laundry if she was doing it by herself. Soon, it became a chore and he was rewarded with a few extra coins, or a surprise gift on a random day. Maybe  Shiganshina  was different. 


	24. You Would Not Believe Your Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **<strike>Favor, Stain, Fireflies</strike>, Reflection, Sick, Cook, Cut, Drink.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Song lyrics from "Fireflies" by Owl City***

_ You would not believe your eyes _

_ If ten million fireflies _

_ Lit up the world as I fell asleep… _

_ \---------------------------- _

_ 'Cause I'd get a thousand hugs _

_ From ten thousand lightning bugs _

_ As they tried to teach me how to dance…. _

_ \---------------------------- _

_ A foxtrot above my head _

_ A sock hop beneath my bed _

_ A disco ball is just hanging by a thread (thread, thread).. _

* * *

I opened my eyes, not knowing what woke me up. I felt weird though, but I couldn’t tell what made me feel that way. I hate nights like this...but there’s a good side. I quietly get out of bed, careful not to wake my parents next door, and go to my window. 

I look out into the flickering glowing night, only possible by the fireflies. I remember trying to capture them and keep them as pets, but my mom would always let them go. I was always sad, but happy as soon as I realized I could catch more. That was years ago, but I still remember the flickering light, and how the fireflies moved - as if they were trying to teach someone to dance. I remember trying to copy their “dance” and perfect it. When I showed the dance at show and tell, the kids always laughed at me. No matter what grade I was in. 

But I thought it was beautiful, the foxtrot they performed. I still dance the dance the fireflies taught me. Isn’t it wonderful what you can learn? 

After a while, I turned back to my bed - I was satisfied for now. And as my eyelids dropped and my breathing slowed, I still watched the blurry glows of the fireflies. 


	25. Gotta Look Pretty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **<strike>Favor, Stain, Fireflies, Reflection</strike>, Cook, Drink.** (Sick - Cut)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! As you've probably noticed, we're two prompts shorter on the list. That's because the prompts "Sick" and "Cut" were removed. I've been sick since the 19th, and writing the prompt "Sick" would make me feel bad. With the prompt "Cut" I had some innocent ideas (and some dark ones), but decided to remove the prompts all together. December just isn't my prompt month, is it? (｡_｡)

“Eren, are you almost done?!” Armin shouted from the bottom of the stairs. Eren had been in the bathroom for ten minutes, and they needed to go  _ now _ ! “Almost! Just gotta add a few touch ups!” Eren shouted from behind the bathroom door. 

He had to put on his eyeshadow, touch up his lipstick, decide which earrings to put in, and brush his teeth. He did not want to have bad breath! He put on his purple eyeshadow, paying close attention to his reflection. He didn’t want to look like he had a black eye either - Mikasa would freak out and be overprotective, no matter what he said. 

Eren then grabbed his dark red lipstick and began touching it up. Other make up had gotten on his lips and kind of messed it up (he might’ve rubbed it a little too). It took a while because he didn’t want to look like he rushed (which he did) - or the Joker. Once that was done, he ignored Armin’s yelling and looked over his earrings. He finally decided on different colored studs, and after checking his reflection, decided to leave them in. 

* * *

“What is taking him so long!?” Armin questioned to himself, looking at his watch. They had twenty minutes to be there, but he didn’t want to be late. He might’ve told Eren the wrong arrival time, but because he knew this was going to happen! Armin huffed as he walked up the stairs and pounded on the bathroom door. “Eren! Hurry up! We got five minutes!” He shouted, making sure he heard a response before going back down stairs. 

Eren quickly brushed his teeth and touched his lip stick up again. After making sure everything was perfect, he finally unlocked the bathroom door (he knew Armin would’ve dragged him out) and went down stairs. 

“Finally! Come on, come on! We’re going to be late!” Armin hurried out the door and to the car. Eren rolled his eyes before following. 


	26. Following The Directions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **<strike>Favor, Stain, Fireflies, Reflection, Cook</strike>, Drink.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is more of "Bake" instead of "Cook", but whatever. 
> 
> French Lace Cookie Recipe: https://www.mountvernon.org/inn/recipes/article/french-lace-cookies/
> 
> _Merry Christmas! (Happy Holidays!)_ ＼⍩⃝／

“ Leah, what are the directions?” Alex asked. “Do you got the corn syrup?” Leah asked, looking at the printed directions. “Yes, I got it. What do I need to do with it?” Alex asked. “Combine 1⁄2 cup corn syrup, 1⁄4 cup butter, 1⁄4 cup shortening, and ⅔ cup brown sugar in the saucepan.” Leah directed, setting the ingredients next to Alex. It took Alex a few minutes to measure the ingredients. “How much brown sugar?” Alex asked, looking at the measuring cup. “⅔.” Leah answered, still looking over the directions. 

“Once it boils, remove it from the heat.” Lean said, finally looking up. “Okay, so we just gotta wait for this to boil?” Alex asked, moving to sit down at the table. “Yeah.” 

* * *

“Okay, now what?” Alex asked, lifting the saucepan from the burner. “Blend in 1 cup sifted all-purpose flour and 1 cup finely chopped nuts gradually.” Leah read off. “Okay.” Alex shrugged and added the flour and nuts. “Now grab the cookie sheet.” Leah instructed, “Now drop rounded teaspoonfuls onto it about 3 inches apart.”. “Ugh, there’s no way I’m actually doing that. I’ll just eyeball it.” Alex complained. Leah just shrugged and let Alex do what she wanted. 

“Did you preheat the oven to 325 degrees?” Alex asked, picking up the cookie sheet. “Yeah, it should be ready to put the cookies in.” Leah answered, stepping out of the way for Alex. “What do we do now?” Alex asked. “We wait for eight to ten minutes.” Leah said, dropping the printed instructions on the table. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Merry Christmas! (Happy Holidays!)_ o(^▽^)o


	27. The Drink Debate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **<strike>Drink</strike>, Gold, Pumpkin, Words, Hesitation, Piano, Scent, Letter, Witch, Map, Danger, Truck, Doll, Key, Petals, Glitter.**
> 
> I decided there wasn't going to be a time limit anymore. I feel guilty if I don't finish a list of prompts in a month. Which - why?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't come at me if the Twitter poll is wrong. I know nothing about Twitter, my main social media is Instagram (follow me **@thisstorydoesntend**). 
> 
> This work has 124 hits, and that kinda upsets me, and I also kinda understand. My work is crap, yes, and a lot of people don't like reading prompt works, but I expected a lot more people to read this. And - no comments?

"Dude, no, Sprite is definitely better!" Levi argued, looking around the table for allys. "Sprite's basically just lemon water! Dr. Pepper is the superior drink!" Nate fought, setting down a reverse card. "Bitch please, Dr.Pepper is disgusting. Pepsi is where it's at!" Jake announced, setting down a yellow eight card. "Wait, diet or regular?" Max asked, putting a yellow one card on the pile. "Regular, diet is trash!" Jake said, shuffling through his six cards.

"So we got Sprite for me, Dr. Pepper for Nate, Pepsi for Jake, and what does Max vote for?" Levi asked, while keeping track of the game. "Hm...I guess I'll go for Root Beer." Max decided, as Levi put down a four color card. "The color's blue. Max, A&W Root Beer or IBC?". "A&W, IBC taste weird." Max said, not really paying attention any more. As Jake set down his card, Levi asked the question of the night. "So....Twitter poll?" he asked, looking around. Since the boys agreed, he quickly pulled up Twitter.

\--------------------------------------------------

**Levi @imabrokenjapaneseboy**

_so....which is better?_

_-_

_Pepsi |68%_

_Dr. Pepper |29%_

_(A&W) Root Beer |34%_

_Sprite |34%_

-

"Guys! Twitter poll is in!" Levi called out from the couch. "Oh cool. Which of us won?" Max asked, eating chips. "It looks like Jake, with 68% for Pepsi, 29% for Dr. Pepper, and a tie of 34% for Root Beer and Sprite." Levi answered, scrolling through Twitter. "Good thing we didn't bet on it.." Nate muttered, stealing some of Max's chips. "I still can't believe you put 'I'm a broken Japanese boy' as your at." Jake thought out loud. "What else was a supposed to do? All your suggestions were trash.' Levi said. "Rude!" Jake rolled his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Which pop is your favorite? Pepsi is mine, that's the reason I made it win. Can anyone guess what card game they're playing? 
> 
> Happy New Year, I guess. - January 1, 2020: 3:01 AM.
> 
> (Thank you, **_Fandoms_Child_** for being the first bookmark. Also - you have 1,743 bookmarks!?)


	28. Five Golden Rings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **<strike>Drink, Gold</strike>, Pumpkin, Words, Hesitation, Piano, Scent, Letter, Witch, Map, Danger, Truck, Doll, Key, Petals, Glitter.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've changed my username! I was AutumnStevenson4, I am now **ThisIsWhenTheWorldEnds**!

“Where did you find them?” Payton asked me, shifting through the box I got out from under my bed. The cardboard box was old, wrinkled, and about falling apart. It was small, and that fitted its purpose perfectly. Payton was currently looking at the five gold rings that were usually in the box. 

All of the rings had their own design. One has an arrow, one had a heart, one had a circle, another had a star, and the last one had a tree. Payton was mostly interested in the ring with the arrow, turning it over in his hand a couple times. 

“Found then in the attic. Mom said I could have them.” I answered, laying back on my floor. “Do you think they’re real gold?” Payton questioned, mostly to himself, as he ut the rings back in the box. “I don’t know. I asked dad, but he said there was no telling.” I put the rings back in the box and slid it under my bed. “Are you going to try to sell them? Could make more than $300.” he informed, getting up and popping his back. 

“Yeah, but I want to keep them. It’ll be cool having old rings - that I can show off.” I replied, getting up as well. “Good luck with that. You’re the only one that cares about that crap.” Payton laughs, leaving my room. I grumble, following him. I thought it was cool.. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ╮(╯▽╰)╭


	29. Cabin In The Pumpkin Patch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **<strike>Drink, Gold, Pumpkin</strike>, Words, Hesitation, Piano, Scent, Letter, Witch, Map, Danger, Truck, Doll, Key, Petals, Glitter.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Google Docs is being such an ass.

"Why are we in a fucking pumpkin patch?" Tristan asked me, trying not to trip over any pumpkins. We had arrived an hour ago, but it was taking me awhile to find the place we came here for. 

Tristan was only here because I promised him alcohol after. I was a bit more wealthy than Tristan, so I could afford the good shit and more than one bottle of it. 

"Because the place I told you about is in a pumpkin patch. I just got a little side tract." I replied, looking at my surroundings. I looked down at my phone, to where I have the address screenshotted. After searching some more, I find some signs. I know I'm at the right place, but I only see pumpkins. 

"You know that place was built in the 1930s, right? It could be torn down by now." Tristan looks at me, "I swear to God, if you brought me to a random pumpkin patch, at 3:30 AM, I'm going to  _ fucking kill _ you!" He finished. I roll my eyes and continue on, knowing his threats are not going to happen. Tristan says this crap all the time, but he knows he's too weak to complete them. Everyone else knows this fact as well, so they don't take him seriously either. 

"Yeah, yeah. Just look for a cabin." I tell him, still searching. I could hear him moving behind me, grumbling. A little bit later and we still couldn't find the cabin. Tristan was ready to give up and go home, but I wasn't. I spent so much time researching this place, that I'll probably have a month and a half of school work to do. I _was not_ going to just give up that easily. 

"Hey, Chris, over here!" I hear Tristan call. I looked for him to find him standing by a map. "It used to be a park - at least that's what it looks like." He says as I walk over. I nodded - I already knew that. We go over the map for a few minutes until we found the main cabin. Tristan grabs on of the worn down mini maps and we head out. 

We get lost a few times, and we also trip over pumpkins. At one point Tristan almost twisted his ankle, but he caught himself. We were more careful after that. A few hours went by and we finally come up to a gravel path way. We felt mentally tired by this point, so we gladly hurried up it. 

"Is this it?" Tristan asked me, folding the mini map. I look at the cabin and then a screenshotted picture of it. "Yeah. Here, wear these." I say to him as I hold a pair of gloves and a mask. I put on my own pair as Tristan struggled to get the mask on. We get flashlights from our bags and carry on. 

It was kinda stupid trying to find the cabin with only moonlight, but we wanted to save the batteries. 

We walk to busted cabin to find the door completely off and laying on the porch. We look around, but we only found a broken flower pot. We travel inside, and the first room we came to is the living room. Tristan begins looking through drawers while I looked through bookshelves and cabinets. 

While I was looking through bookshelves, I noticed paper sticking out of a book. The paper looked cleaner than the book, so I tugged on it. A folded up letter, addressed to  Mr. George  was the paper. I looked at Tristan, and decided to wait to tell him about the letter. 

"Look at this." Tristan says, handing me a little book. He goes back to searching while I read. It looked like a phone book and a diary in one. For every name and number was an opinion for that person. Whoever wrote this, did not like most people. 

"Are we going to keep it or sell it?" I asked, flipping through the yellow pages. "I dunno. Thought you'd like it." Tristan replied, shutting a drawer. "It doesn't look like anything is in here. Is there an office?" He asked, looking at the map. It listed all rooms in the main cabin. "Yeah, right there" I say, pointing to the map. Tristan said nothing and just walked in the direction of the office. I could tell he wanted to get out. 

We searched through the office, all the while having portraits of people long forgotten stare at us. This time I searched the desk while Tristan searched the rest of the room. I saw a couple of documents I wanted to keep and put them in my bag, along with the phone book. I searched the whole desk until I came upon a drawer that wouldn't open. I thought it was just old, but when I looked closer, I saw there was a lock preventing the drawer from opening. 

"Well, we need a key." I mention to Tristan as I look up. I hear Tristan groan and a book being slammed onto a table. I sigh and begin looking at the self behind the desk. There were more papers I decided to keep, and a book too. I didn't kind a key. I looked around and huffed as I realized there was a ring of keys on a hook. I didn't tell Tristan, in case none of the keys worked. 

I tried the first three, and they didn't fit at all. On the fourth key, it short of fit. It was the fifth key that fit and opened the drawer. It was old, but you could tell it used to be bright gold. I called Tristan over as I opened the drawer. "Where the Hell did you find those keys?" He asked me as I shifted through the drawer. "On the hook," I pointed to it, "Now look through these." I commanded, handing him a stack of papers. 

I  quickly found a little box inside the drawer. It also had a lock on it, but it was getting close to daylight. We couldn't be caught here. "Tristan, let's go!" I shouted as I put the box and keys in my bag. "What?! What about these?" He asked, aggressively showing the papers. "Bring them with you." I told him, walking out of the office. He followed me and we jogged back outside. 

"How're we going to get back?" Tristan demanded. "We try figuring it out on our own. If someone finds is, we say we got lost trying to find a pumpkin for your aunt." I said, walking down the pathway. 

"Why my aunt?" Tristan asked. "Because she makes pies for a living, stupid." I reply, hitting him on the head. "Okay, okay!" He shouts, walking faster. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this on my phone, while riding the bus to and from school. All mistakes are mine.


	30. Alistair Francis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **<strike>Drink, Gold, Pumpkin, Words</strike>, Hesitation, Piano, Scent, Letter, Witch, Map, Danger, Truck, Doll, Key, Petals, Glitter.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Google Docs didn't **_fucking_** save the first few paragraphs :). So if this prompt is written weird, that's why :).
> 
> This shit better not happen again.

I had agreed to be Alistair’s study buddy, so he called it. He wouldn’t leave me alone until I agreed, and I didn’t want to have Alistair follow me everywhere. As soon as we got our textbooks out, he stared at the page for a few minutes and then exclaimed he was bored. He also said he couldn’t read the “big fancy words” that they put as explanations. 

But Alistair read “big fancy words” all the time, so I know his reasoning was bullshit. I just sighed, and ignored him, continuing to highlight sections of my reading. I don’t know why I agreed. “Why is reading so hard?” Alistair whined, leaning over the back of his chair. We were going to study in the school’s library, but Alistair had to study for history, and he was never going to do something he didn’t want to. 

“Alistair, just read!” I huffed as I flipped a page. I had to study for math, and I was almost done with the chapter. Alistair was still on page 23, and he had to read to page 58. I wouldn’t help him study normally, but this time he didn’t shut up until I did. He said ‘I helped him focus’, when really, I was the person he whined to. 

“But words are hard! And they just wrote one big paragraph, instead of making multiple paragraphs! That’s hard to read!” he cried, sitting up and turning his textbook to me. He was right, it was just one big paragraph.

I heard Alistair huff and set his book down. I don’t know what he was doing, but I heard him get up and begin moving books on the shelves. I hoped he wasn’t moving the books from their proper places, since the librarian would probably ban us. The school library was the only place I could study without siblings or parents getting in the way. 

After an hour passed, I finally looked up. Alistair wasn’t messing with the books, but was just reading the titles. Alistair was weird with words. If they were in a textbook, or coming out of a teacher’s mouth, he would ignore them. But if they were in a normal book, and it interested him, he would take them in and even examine them. He was just like that, and even his parents that it was weird. 

Even if it was weird, he was still Alistair Francis, the boy who was opinionated on words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just loving life right now :). I try to work and look what happens! My shit gets deleted! Fucking yay! :)


	31. Got the Part

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **<strike>Drink, Gold, Pumpkin, Words, Hesitation</strike>, Piano, Scent, Letter, Witch, Map, Danger, Truck, Doll, Key, Petals, Glitter.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mass wrote the next four of these.

“Go out there, you’ll be fine!” Harley encouraged Marigold from behind the curtain. Marigold was busy looking out into the crowd, swimming in her anxiety. Today was the premiering of Romeo and Juliet, and so many people had come to see it.

“What if I mess up? Or forget my lines?!” Marigold chattered, stepping away from the curtain. These were worries she had ever since she auditioned for the play. Her role wasn’t that big, but people would still see her mess up! And then Julia Robinson would get mad at her for ruining the play!

“You won’t! And Julia Robinson will not get mad at you, she’s too happy about getting Juliet!” Harley rolled her eyes. Marigold was always this nervous, but this was just ridiculous! She even had a small roll, no one really cares if the small roll people mess up! “They’ll be too busy at the end focusing on Romeo and Juliet, you’ll be fine.” Harley reassured.

Marigold ignored Harley, pacing back and forth.She was sure Harley was wrong, so she wouldn’t take her word for it. She debated whether or not she should say that’s she’s sick and have her understudy play the part, or if she should prove herself wrong (or right). It appeared too late though, as Mr. Girish had signalled it was her time to shine.

Marigold panicked, quickly looking between Mr. Girish and Harley. Her heart was beating so loud, that she was sure everyone could hear it. Mr. Girish now had a half annoyed look and was frantically signing her to go on stage.

Taking a deep breath, she went on stage.


	32. Worksheets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **<strike>Drink, Gold, Pumpkin, Words, Hesitation, Piano</strike>, Scent, Letter, Witch, Map, Danger, Truck, Doll, Key, Petals, Glitter.**

“Why is music so hard!” Ronan cried, throwing the work sheet down. Ivy looked up from her spot at the kitchen table; she too was filling out a work sheet for music class. They had been assigned to create their own piece of music that could be played on the piano. The problem was that neither were great at composing music - or music at all. Ivy had a better grade than Ronan, but only because she remembered the notes.

“Just put random, but sensible, notes down.”‌ Ivy replied, moving her pencil to draw a quarter note. “Is that what you’re doing?” Ronan questioned, sliding out of the chair. “Of course not! I’m looking u examples and trying to figure out how to do it.” Ivy said, gesturing to her open laptop.

“You mean you’re looking at what other kids did and copying it?” Ronan answered dryly. “No!” Ivy cried, “I’m making _examples_ of them!”. “Uh-huh.” Ronan sighed. He righted up in his chair and picked up his pencil. After looking at example music on the paper, he had an idea.

What if he took the example and just switched the notes? That would be fine, and it would sound completely different. Yeah, that was a great idea!‌

Ronan did just that, and when he was finished, went to go watch YouTube. Ivy was finished before him and decided to go read a book.

The next day, they turned in their worksheets.


	33. All I Want For Christmas Are Scented Candles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **<strike>Drink, Gold, Pumpkin, Words, Hesitation, Piano, Scent</strike>, Letter, Witch, Map, Danger, Truck, Doll, Key, Petals, Glitter.**

Owen walked out of the store happy with his purchases. He had just bought three more scented candles, and they went along with his friends’ favorite scent.

Owen planned on giving everyone at least one scented candle this Christmas. Last year it was postcards, the year before that was books, and the year before that was tea cups. Owen liked to have a theme every year.

Owen walked to his apartment, making sure to be careful with his bag. He’s had an obsession with scented candles since the beginning of the year, and now his friends could have one to freshen the air. David especially need one in his workout room - it was the reason Owen spent $4.37 on a big candle. H was going to make it was kept there.

Owen unlocked his door and stepped inside. After closing the door, and carefully put his bag on the couch, making sure it wouldn’t fall off. He then happily went to find the decorative boxes he bought last week.


	34. Bookstore Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **<strike>Drink, Gold, Pumpkin, Words, Hesitation, Piano, Scent, Letter</strike>, Witch, Map, Danger, Truck, Doll, Key, Petals, Glitter.**

Eren waved goodbye to a customer as they left. He had been working at 104th Books for over a year now, and he enjoyed the job very much. There were some annoying customers, but most of the time they were fine. After making sure a coworker was open to be a check out, he went to restock books.

Eren had noticed a man walking in while he was restocking the Harry Potter series. He was kind of short, with gray eyes, and a undercut. He looked around and then started walking to a shelf. Eren shrugged and continued working.

It was a little while later that he heard someone call. “Excuse me,” the man said when Eren looked at him, “Do you know where I can find a book called Titans by Hanji Zoë? I’ve looked, but I can’t seem to find it.” he finished. Eren noticed his voice was deep, and it sounded like he could be in a gang.

Eren searched his memory, looking for Titans by Hanji Zoë. Finally, he said “Yeah!‌ Titans is right over there, next to the History of The World Sign!”‌. He pointed to said sign, and watched as the man followed. The man said thank you and left, leaving Eren to his job.

A few minutes later, Erem was working the cash register again. He had a few more customers, but nothing really happened. As he was leaning unto boredom, the man came to the check out. He was caring Titans, another book Eren couldn’t see, and a bookmark.

Eren smiled as he rang up his purchases. When got to the receipt (104th Books always gave out hand written receipts), he asked the man’s name. “Levi Ackerman” the man answered, taking his bags and receipt when Eren was done writing. He smirked when Eren blushed because their hands touched.

As he left, Eren flusteredly cried goodbye.

****

A few weeks later, Eren had just come to work at the cash register when a coworker stopped him. “Some guy left this for you,” she said, “It was kind of creepy.”. She handed him a folded piece of paper. Eren said thanks and waited until she was gone before he unfolded the paper.

_Dear Eren,_

_Would you like to meet up?‌ If not, you can completely ignore this letter._

_My number is 658-****-****_

_-Levi_


	35. The Town of Aylesbury (Part)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **<strike>Drink, Gold, Pumpkin, Words, Hesitation, Piano, Scent, Letter, Witch</strike>, Map, Danger, Truck, Doll, Key, Petals, Glitter.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is part of a work I unpublished so it could be worked on.

Eren hummed as he looked over his instructions. He was helping his dad make potions for healing, something the town of Aylesbury needed badly. Diseases and sickness had spread quickly, and Grisha Jaeger had suddenly become very busy. Eren could tell his dad was frustrated, but Grisha refused to stop. The people of Aylesbury paid great amounts of money for the simplest of medicines, and even sometimes traded or it. He wouldn't say his father was a greedy man, he just wanted more money. The way Grisha thought of it, if the people gave him that money he would take it. 

The Jaeger family wasn't poor, but they weren't rich either. Eren remembers when he was nine, and his family were being threatened to pay all their late bills at once, or they be thrown out and shunned from Aylesbury. He remembers his mom, Carla, going to get the Forbidden Money jar. 

The Forbidden Money jar was the container with all the money they had saved and weren't allowed to touch unless they were homeless. He remembers Grisha and Carla's disappointed faces while they slowly drew money out of the jar and counted. Eren sat at the floor of the kitchen table, drawing, and sometimes stopping to watch his parents. They both counted in different languages, German and Spanish, but somehow never made a mistake. They originally had $300,450 in the jar, but it dropped down to $271,472. It was a small drop, just $28,978, but it was a major drop for his parents. 

"Eren, you almost finished?" Grisha knocked him out of his thoughts, coming to stand next to the cauldron. "Yeah, almost. What's this potion supposed to do?" Eren asked, setting down his wooden spoon. He wasn't allowed to touch the expensive potion equipment, but his dad let him use the ones somewhere in the middle - not cheap, but not expensive. Grisha leaned over the cauldron, looking at every bubble and reaction the pink liquid had. "It's supposed to help with burns. An outbreak of Devil's Burn has started, but we caught it in time. No one has burned inside out yet." he answered, straightening and going over to a closet. 

"I just hope no new outbreaks begin." Grisha sighed tiredly, grabbing a few glass jars from the closet. Eren had once asked his father why he didn't use magic to get the glasses. The answer was that the glasses were too weak for magic, and if moved by magic, they would shatter. Eren began to hum and clean the desk, piling books and rolling scrolls back up. They worked in silence, Grisha bottling the potion and Eren cleaning. 

Eren sorted through papers, making piles to know what goes where. He was looking over a recipe (for cooking or potions?) when bright yellow caught his eyes. He looked over his shoulder, making sure his dad wasn't looking before picking the sticky note up. 

_ <s>Graveyard, 12:30 - 3:00 AM</s> _

Graveyard? Why would his dad need to go to a graveyard? Eren looked back over his shoulder before slipping the sticky note into a book. He then hurriedly put the book in his bag and took his wand out. He spelled the papers and books to go to their proper places. He wasn't allowed to use magic all the time, his parents said he had to learn to do somethings without magic, but when he could it felt amazing. 

"Are you almost done, Eren? Your mother will want to see us soon." Grisha announced, stacking the now filled jars. "Yeah, dad. I just have to put the pens away." Eren replied, quickly gathering the pens. Grisha hummed and went to stand by the door, opening it when Eren come running along. 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments? Opinions?


End file.
